Disclaimer, the First: I own nothing but the plot to this story and my OCs. The rest all belongs to Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan, Brad Falchuk, the various songwriters, and to the writers of any joke that may not be mine.


Disclaimer, the Second: The PSA belongs to the brilliant guys at RoosterTeeth.


Disclaimer, the Third: Daniel Lawson belongs to Gone Rampant.


A camera switched on in the McKinley High music room, the room decorated for the Thanksgiving holiday. Standing in front of the camera was Puck and the Glee club's newest acquisition, Daniel Lawson.

"Hey, everybody," Daniel said, "lately there's been a number of people coming to a website I and several of this club like to frequent, Reds and Blues, looking for information about Red States versus Blue States."

"Yeah," Puck nodded in agreement, "they all wanna complain about each other and they're looking for a new place to do it."

Daniel pressed the nearby remote and a map showing the red and blue states materialized on the board behind them. They would definitely be thanking Jack for the kickass special effects later.

"Yeah," Daniel added, showing his grasp of the English language. "We don't really keep up with current events, but apparently, from what we've been able to figure out, the Red States did something that caused a disaster in the Blue States, and now all the people are being forced to evacuate to Canada and France. And for some reason the evacuation is being led by a fat guy from Michigan, "a picture of Michael Moore appeared in place of the map, a speech bubble with a Communist flag appearing near his mouth, Daniel shrugging, "We don't really understand a lot of it."

Puck took control of the situation. "Yeah, and the people in the Red States are mad because the people in the Blue States are mean to them, and want them to pay money for roads and schools, instead of cool things like NASCAR and shotguns. Also, there's something about ketchup in there…like we said, a lot of this stuff doesn't make much sense."

"Yeah, but the website isn't really about large groups of people that hate themselves," Daniel added. "It's more about small groups of people that are able to hate on a much more personal level."

"Like I hate Daniel because he's a dick," Puck interjected.

"And I hate Puck because he's an even bigger dick," Daniel fired back. "I mean, look at him, it's like a big monkey came down, took a crap and out he popped."

Puck glared at Daniel. "The dickhead's right. This time of year we should all come together and hate as a group, like our ancestors did."

"And what better to hate than turkeys!" Daniel declared with unusual enthusiasm. "And what better way to hate 'em, than to eat 'em by the millions!"

As he said this Jack entered the room, flanked by Santana. The blonde tenor was wearing an apron and, like Santana, looked as though he had been in a food fight

"Exactly," Jack proclaimed, taking off his oven mitts.

"Hey, Jackass, how's the big dinner coming?" Puck asked.

"Well, there's thirteen of us," Jack turned his head to the side, shouting off-camera, "it would be fourteen if someone wasn't a vegan," he turned his attention back to the camera, "so I thought one turkey wouldn't cut it."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I can see how only three pounds of meat would leave us unsatisfied."

"Are you familiar with the turducken?" Jack inquired.

"Yeah," Puck answered, "that's what I do when I visit the monkey house at the zoo and make 'em mad".

"Not turd ducking," Santana crowed, "a turducken. It's a chicken in a duck in a turkey."

"You know," Daniel said in his usual deadpan, "because the holiday isn't quite gluttonous enough on its own."

Puck, on the other hand, looked like a kid on Christmas day…or on all eight days of Hanakuh. "Sounds awesome! Is that what we're having?"

"No," Jack declared bluntly. "Although impressive, I decided they stopped short when designing the turducken."

"Yeah," deadpan Daniel commented from the peanut gallery, "they seem like real under-achievers there."

"So," Jack took control of the topic once again, "I decided to make my own variety."

"What's that? A polecat stuffed in a possum?" Daniel asked, a sarcastic smile on his face.

"No," Jack said. "First we start with a hummingbird."

As if by magic, every animal Jack mentioned appeared on the projector screen behind them.

"A what?" Puck asked.

"Put that in a sparrow, stuff them both in a cornish hen, then put that in a chicken," his idea of a chicken was the San Diego Chicken, "put all that in a duck, then in a turkey…" they were treated to a child's drawing of a turkey, "then in a bigger turkey…" a picture of Michael Moore.

Puck's jaw was on the floor. "Two turkeys?"

Jack shrugged. "Hey, it's Thanksgiving." And he continued to prattle on, "Put that in a penguin; stuff that in a peacock…" next came the NBC logo, "then an eagle, shove it all in an albatross, then an emu, next comes an ostrich, then a leopard! Put all that in a pterodactyl, then stuff it in a Boeing 747."

And with that, Jack stopped to take a breath.

"Cool!" Daniel declared. "I get a wing!"

"I call the turbine!" Santana said.

"Alright!" Jack said, heading for the table. "Hunker up, guys!" he grabbed one of the knives on the table, "Hey, Puck! What kind of meat do you like? First class, or coach?"

Daniel, meanwhile, had put a little thought into the meal. "You know, if we cook this thing in 350 degrees at ten minutes a pound, it's not gonna be done for eleven years."

Naturally, Jack had the solution. "That's why we're going to deep-fry."

No sooner did he say that, the horn of an oil tanker sounded off.

"There's the oil now!" Jack announced, racing out of the room to continue preparing the feast.

Santana followed after him, still curious about one thing. "What was that leopard for?"

"Presentation," Jack said before they disappeared from view.

Daniel turned to the camera. "I apologize profusely. Though, I'm not sure if I'm apologizing to whoever sees this or to myself."

He let out an exasperated sigh.

"Anyways, I hope you all have a good Thanksgiving and, remember, hate only matters when it's shared with the ones you love."

He punctuated his statement by switching off the camera, effectively cutting off the potential viewer from the possible dinner disaster that was to ensue.


A/N: A new anthology and a PSA within a day of each other? Crazy, I know. I hope you all enjoy this one. I'm not sure how I feel about it. It seemed to rely on sight gags and in a completely prose dominated environment, that could be troublesome. Also, I'm not sure how I feel about the website, Reds and Blues. Seems kind of lame to me.

Still, I'm not the final judge. In the end, it's up to my readers to tell if it's any good or it sucks.

Soulless Warlock